


No more than a handful

by randomisedmongoose



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Childbirth, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Mild Gore, Pregnancy, but if you're squeamish about blood turn around now, or whatever you'd call a placenta, rated gen because childbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12684309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomisedmongoose/pseuds/randomisedmongoose
Summary: At some point there will be babies ever after. But for most children, the passage into this world is not as easy as a Planeshift spell, and Pike wants to experience it unaltered. Scanlan disagrees.





	No more than a handful

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, there will be adorable gnome babies at the end of this, but you gotta slug through a bit of explicit depictions of childbirth first. I’ve given birth to two children myself, both of them vaginally and one without any pain relief – it can be a great experience but is generally also drawn out, messy and painful. Depictions of childbirth in fiction are often ludicrous to the point of being dangerous in how inaccurate they are, so here’s one that’s a little more probable. Except for the magic, of course.

_One might ask oneself this question: In a world where there is magic, why is there suffering?_

_Part of the answer is: choice, and curiosity._

 

* * *

 

 

Pike sighed as she gingerly sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of the sigh was because it was so nice to sit down. Part of the sigh was because she knew how hard it would be to get up again. She glared at her belly. Don’t you think it’s time to come out soon, she thought. You’ve been in there long enough. She sighed again and stroked her belly. She could feel the shape of the baby in there. It had been laying head down for a while now, and her belly was drooping slightly. It couldn’t be long until it arrived. Hopefully.

Scanlan came in from the living room and sidled up to her, a huge, open smile on his honest and trustworthy face. Pike rolled her eyes. She knew that look all too well.

“Yes, what do you want, Scanlan?”

He smiled even wider and started to rub her shoulders. She chuckled and waited. He cleared his throat.

“Piiiike?”

“Yes?”

He leaned over her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Can I please, please help you when it comes? Just a little spell, a teeny tiny one, just to be sure you’re in no physical pain or danger whatsoever?”

She rolled her shoulders, dislodging his hands. “Scanlan, we’ve been over this. No. I want to know what it’s like. How can I help others if I don’t know what it feels like myself?”

“But baby, you don’t _have_ to know!” he whined, sounding exasperated. “I mean, you didn’t have to fall in lava and burn your foot off to help Vax that one time!”

“This is different, and you know it.”

Scanlan muttered under his breath and sat down by the table. He pouted for a while, then the pout turned into a sly grin. He started to par his nails with a small table dagger, then looked at them, waving them about as if admiring them. A slight purple glow began to form around his fingers.

Pike gave him a sideways glance. “I swear, if you try to cast Suggestion on me, I’m going to strangle you with your own accordion.”

Scanlan immediately stopped wiggling his fingers and casually turned the gesture into scratching his armpit. The purple glow vanished and he grinned sheepishly. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Pikey-poo.”

 

* * *

 

 

About four in the morning, just as the grey morning light started to filter through the curtains, Pike woke. The house was quiet and still. She sat up, trying to understand what it was that had woken her up. Something felt off, but she couldn’t put a finger on it. She shook her head irritably and got up to make some tea. As she scooped some tea leaves out of the jar with the purple roses, her innards cramped, not painfully, but insistently. She shifted uncomfortably. She had had a lot of cramps during the last trimester, and it was a pain in the ass to be quite frank. She put the leaves in a cup and put a kettle on the stove.

When the water was boiling, she poured it on the leaves and nearly scalded her hand as another, heavier cramp made her bunch up a little. She frowned and finished pouring the tea. She sat down by the cold fireside and sipped her tea. Meanwhile, she looked at the complicated clock on the wall (a wedding gift from Percy) and counted. As another cramp arrived about five minutes later, she sighed and went to get the pillow.

The pillow was another gift, this time from Keyleth. It was more of a sack, really – a large pillowcase filled with wheat kernels, decorated with flowering vines. She put the wheat-filled pillow in the oven. As she paced the room, tea in hand, another cramp made her wince. They were regular but not bad. She took the now warm pillow out of the oven and took it and the tea over to the rocking chair. She arranged the pillow behind her back, the tea within reach on the table and pulled a plaid over the whole shebang. She sat in silence, gently rocking back and forth. The contractions continued, one about every five minutes, the dull pain lessened by the warmth of the heated wheat kernels.

Eventually, she dozed off.

 

* * *

 

“Pikey-poo?”

She awoke with a snort. Scanlan and Grog both stood leaned over her. The clock and the sunlight both told her that it was breakfast time, just about hitting half past six. The pillow had cooled and was now a hard lump poking her in the small of the back.

“What are you doing out here? I thought you had gone over to Grog again, but you weren’t there, so we came out…”

She stretched uncomfortably and put her hands out to him. “I woke up and wanted some tea. I guess I fell asleep again.”

Scanlan took her hands and helped her up. As he hauled her upright, a suddenly upwelling, insistent contraction made her gasp. This one was worse than all the previous, and she tightened her grip. Scanlan looked worried.

“Are you okay, Pike?”

She started to explain when suddenly, her legs became wet. A stream of rose-tinted, whitish fluid pooled around her feet. She looked down, dumbfounded, then looked up at the gnome and the goliath.

“Well… I think it’s started.” Another contraction started building, like a wave. Pike steadied herself on the table and started breathing through her nose, trying to control the pain.

Scanlan panicked.

“What- what- what should I do, do I, uh, do I boil water? That’s what you do, right, you boil water, I’ve read that, I dunno what I need to do with it though, do I boil the baby or something-“

Grog put one of his huge mitts on Scanlan’s head, turning him firmly around, and kneeled down to face him.

“Scanlan? Play. Play sumtin’ nice an’ soothin’ fer Pike, yeah? She’ll like that. Nod yer head yes.” Grog nodded Scanlan’s head up and down, then released him.

Scanlan whirled around on his heels and rushed over into the sitting room. He returned shortly after, his arms full of instruments. After considering and discarding a shawm, a set of bongo drums and a harmonica, he settled on a lute. While Scanlan played, Grog sat down in front of Pike.

“Hey, monstah. You gonna have the baby now?”

Pike nodded. “Feels like it. In a bit, anyway. I’m not really sure where I am, but the water obviously just broke, and it feels like my cervix is pretty dilated already.”

“Yer whatsit is whatnow?”

Pike laughed. “It’s coming, but it’s probably going to take a while, is what I’m saying.”

Grog shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Jes’ about gettin’ started, yeah? Then you’ll wanna walk around a bit, shake that baby down.”

Pike looked curiously at Grog, levelling her breathing in anticipation of another contraction. “Grog… how many births have you seen?”

Grog scratched his beard. “Dunno. One, two, three… many… lots.” He counted on his fingers.

“Didn’t think… ungh! …didn’t think it was the sort of thing goliaths did.” Pike drew a long breath.

“Nah, the whole herd welcomes new goliaths. Can’t sit alone in a musty tent and pop ‘em out, can ya! Ya gotta do that shit with some companions. Seems like it hurts like hell, ain’t no one gonna want to do that by themself.” He nodded over to Scanlan. “Tha’s a good thing too, havin’ a bard along. Bit of a singsong would be best, but some plinkin’s nice too, yeah?” He leaned down. “Plus, it’ll keep him occ-you-py’d.” He winked conspiratorially.

Pike laughed and nodded. She hung onto Grogs arm, and they started pacing slowly.

 

* * *

 

They alternated between walking and sitting for a couple of hours. The contractions kept coming, and although Pike could feel that things were progressing, it was frustratingly slow. She went to the toilet several times. Scanlan played an assortment of instruments, massaged Pike’s back, reheated the pillow, made food and, most of all, fretted. Grog was strangely calm – Pike had always imagined that Grog wouldn’t really factor in during the birth. To see him being so cavalier about the whole business made her feel a bit ashamed that she hadn’t discussed any of it with him beforehand. As it was, they chattered about this and that, old memories, tales of things they’d done.

Time went by, punctuated by the regular waves of pain and the feeling of her lower abdomen and back knotting themselves into a tight ball. When the clock started creeping towards ten, the contractions started coming closer and closer, and became more and more painful. Pike had to stand still and just breathe through them to keep from screaming. Scanlan held her hands, and Grog sat down beside her, breathing calmly. She followed the steady rhythm of his breaths and the wave crested and fell.

“I can’t walk around anymore, Grog, I need to sit.”

“Right-o, let’s get this done then.” Grog took Scanlan by the shoulder and hauled him to one of the cabinets. She stood and watched as Grog and Scanlan put out a couple of bedsheets and some pillows on the stone floor by the bed.

“Ye want me to hold ya, Pike? Ye can sit here in my lap. I’ll hold ya when ya can’t stay up anymo’.”

Grog sat down on the sheet, cross-legged. Pike nodded and sank down on her knees, half leaning against Grogs stomach. Scanlan sat down in front of her and took her hands. He still looked panicky, but most of all, he had such love and concern on his face that she almost cried. Another contraction came, and another, then another, and she held on to Scanlan’s hands as if they were the only tether she had to this plane. The waves started to melt together, and for an instant she felt as if she was back on the ship, the storm wrecking her and blowing her every which way.

“It feels- like- it feels, heavy, oh, Sarenrae, I have to push! I need to push, can I push?” She squeezed Scanlan’s hands and breathed, in, out, in out. Scanlan bit his lip nervously and looked at Grog, pleading for any kind of guidance.

“I don’t- I don’t know if you can push- Grog, what do I do?!”

Grog made a motion with his free hand. “Get down between her legs.”

“What?!” Scanlan’s eyes boggled.

“Oh come on, ‘s not the firs’ time ye’ve been there, Gods, yer so fuckin’ loud at night sometimes I swear this house ain’t got any walls! Now get down there and look fer the babyhead or I’ll push yours inta yer own arsehole!”

Scanlan dove down on his knees and awkwardly looked between his wife’s legs.

“Uh, yep, yeah, there’s definitely a head here! Oh fuck, sweet Ioun, yep, baby incoming!”

“Good, right. How much head is there?”

“Like, uh, a pate? Like a pate’s-worth of baby?”

“Nice. Grab that towel there.” Grog turned his head to Pike as Scanlan, still prone on the floor, scrabbled for a clean towel.

“Listen, monstah. Ya got like two pushes left, an’ this kid’s out in the world, yeah?”

Pike kept breathing deeply, clutching her holy symbol in one hand and giving a shaky thumbs-up with the other. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the immense pressure, trying to anticipate the cresting of the next wave. It came, and the pressure and the need to push became unbearable, and with a howl she forced her body to contract and force the source of the pressure downwards. The feeling was so intense that there was no longer room for any pain.

A small voice from between her thighs said: “So there is a whole head now, yeah, kinda turning around a bit, we’re at peak baby here…”

Grog grinned. “Right, Scanlan, be ready with that towel, yeah? Ye gotta catch yer kid now.”

“Okay, okay, catch the kid, yeah, okay.” Scanlan lay on the floor, towel at the ready, hands shaking.

Pike screwed her eyes shut and kept breathing in time with Grog. A loud, high wail of exertion escaped her as she let the last wave crash over her and she gave in again to the urgent need to push, push, push, breathe and push.

“Aaaaaaah oh dear Gods it’s coming out I’ve got it I’ve got it oh fuck it’s a whole entire baby oh holy shit!!” Scanlan clutched the red, wrinkly, tiny gnome in his trembling arms. Pike fell back into Grog’s lap.

“Ye did great, Pike.” Grog held Pike upright and patted her shoulder.

She gave out a hoarse chuckle. “Is the placenta out yet?”

Grog leaned over her and looked at the sheet beneath Pike. “Nope, can’t see it.”

Pike shifted painfully. “Shit. Well, can you rub my stomach to help it out?”

Grog gently put two fingers on Pike’s stomach and rubbed it in slow circles. Meanwhile, Scanlan sat down on the edge of the bloodspattered sheet, clutching the mewling baby. He grimaced at the blood and grime and reached for Pike.

“Should I do something?”

Grog grinned. “Jess’ you hold on to that kid, daddy-o. Pike an’ I got this.”

“Here it comes, Grog!” Pike gasped in pain as a new painful contraction forced her tired body to push again. Grog tugged gently on the umbilical cord, and a dark red, bloody mass landed with a splat on the floor. Scanlan went white and slumped back against the bed while clutching the baby tight.

Grog pushed curiously at the mass with a huge finger. “Whadda ya say, Pike, seems like it’s all there?”

Pike breathed heavily but peered at the placenta. ”Yes... yes, I think so.” She closed her eyes and sat down on the floor. “Grog, bed, please?”

“Ayup.” Grog swiftly scooped her up and carried her over to the bed. He sat her down beside Scanlan and pushed a couple of pillows together, then helped her lay down.

“Are… are you alright?” Scanlan’s voice was small and shaky. He held the baby close with one hand and let the other lay on Pike’s leg.

“Oh, Scanlan, yes. It hurts like fuck, but I’m alright. Can I have the baby, please?”

Scanlan gently put the baby in Pike’s arms. She arranged it so that the cord trailing over the edge of the bed wouldn’t tear, and wiped dried blood from its tufty hair.

“Whadda ya wanna do whi’ the babyrope, Pike?”

“The umbilical cord? What do goliaths usually do?”

“Usually we jess’ gnaw it off.”

Pike grimaced. “Yeah, strike that. There’s some twine in the left-hand cupboard, go get that and a sharp knife.”

Grog rummaged around in the cupboard and eventually came back with a ball of twine. He handed it and a small knife to Scanlan.

“Wha- me? Am I supposed to do this? What do I do, Pike?” Scanlan started to look panicky again, but Grog and Pike both put a hand on his shoulders.

“Calm down, Scanlan. Just tie a piece of twine, there, just by the navel, and then one about an inch away. Good. Now you need to cut the cord, right there between the places you tied.”

Scanlan grabbed the knife in a trembling hand. “I really don’t feel good waving a knife close to my new-born child, just saying!”

“Then don’t wave it. Just cut it gently from beneath upwards.”

Scanlan managed to cut the cord, then threw the knife away for security. He folded the edges of the towel around the baby, who was wailing and waving its arms around angrily. He tucked it into the crook of Pike’s arm, and she started to open her shirt to let the baby search for her nipple. She couldn’t get a good angle until Scanlan ran to get the pillow and tucked it under the child, so she could get it up to the breast without constantly flexing her arm.

While the baby tried to find Pike’s breast, Grog gathered up the edges of the bloody sheet and rolled it into a ball, placenta, pillows and all, and unceremoniously dumped it in a washtub that stood by the door. He rubbed a bit at the wettest stains on the stone floor but soon lost interest and came over to the bed. They all sat in silence for a while, listening to the kitten-like sounds of the small life as it found the breast and latched on. Pike nodded off for a few minutes. Grog sat in silence, but Scanlan became increasingly fidgety. He put a hand on Pike’s leg and shook her carefully awake. She smiled groggily at him.

“I know you wanted to feel what this was like, but please, baby, can I heal you now?”

Pike laughed and caressed Scanlan’s cheek with one hand. “Yes, love, now you can heal me.”

Scanlan put his hands on Pike’s abdomen and started singing softly under his breath. A dim blue-white light spread from under his palms, flowing slowly like molasses. It slid between the sheets and through Pike’s shirt. She shifted and sighed as the healing magic soothed the stinging, halted the blood flow to a trickle and knitted the small tears and rips. It didn’t shrink her stomach to its former size, but that would happen in due time.

As Pike leaned back to watch her new-born child eat its first meal, Scanlan padded up and fetched his harp. He sat down at the foot of the bed and started plucking the strings. A melody started to wind its way through the room, rejuvenating and calming. After a while, the baby settled down. Grog, who until then had sat quietly, just looking at Pike and the baby, shifted a bit and cleared his throat.

“Hey, uh, Pike... can I hold it, please?” Grog looked pleadingly at Pike.

Pike smiled. “Of course!” She carefully lifted the child towards him. Grog gently took the little bundle. It fit neatly into one of his giant hands, and he held it like he had found some rare and shiny jewel.

“It’s… it’s so small.” His eyebrows furrowed as he brought the tiny child closer to his face. “How can it be so small?” He peered intently at the baby, who looked back at him with unfocused, coal-black eyes. He gently stroked the downy hair with a fingertip. The child yawned. A smile spread across his scarred, bearded face.

“Whatcha gonna call it?”

Pike looked at Scanlan, who looked back at her without stopping his playing. They both smiled.

“Juniper”, they said, in chorus.


End file.
